


Cries of Summer

by rookiemist_ache



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: Dimension Travel, Don’t copy to another site, Don’t post to another site, F/M, Fluff, Humor, More tags to be added, Reincarnation, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Transmigration, but really its more like, how the eff do i work ao3, no beta we die, oc-insert, technologically illiterate author, this probably isnt as dramatic as the summary makes it out to be, well. i think what im writing is funny, which is probably a sure-fire way to guarantee that its not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookiemist_ache/pseuds/rookiemist_ache
Summary: “Call me Mari.”She doesn’t want to give this stranger her name, so she offers another’s.“Nice to meet you, Mari.” He doesn’t comment on her lack of surname, but he clearly doesn’t have the same concerns when he responds, “My name is Samuel Oak, but those who know me call me Professor Oak.”She doesn’t even realize she’s stopped. Stopped walking, breathing, thinking, everything.She distantly hears ringing in her ears.It’s deafening.
Relationships: Undecided, as is normal in life :p
Kudos: 9





	Cries of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that I have not touched the Pokémon fandom since 2007, as that’s when I last played Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire. And whatever few memories I have of playing one of the Pokémon games on my older cousin’s Gameboy Color sometime pre-2000. Can’t recall which one. Haven’t even read any Pokémon fanfics yet. 
> 
> So basically my knowledge regarding these characters and the Pokémon in this region is sparse, to say the least. 
> 
> And knowing that, enjoy!

“Ugh. That _hurts._ ”

She slowly reclines up, resolutely keeping her eyes shut and trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Her hand shoots up to cradle her head. She can feel the pulsing in her head worsening, and her stomach’s threatening to expel something definitely unpleasant. 

She distantly recognizes the sound of crickets, cicadas especially. 

Urgh, she’s not looking forward to opening her eyes later. Can she just keep her eyes closed forever? Maybe she’ll just be blind, and then the incessant throbbing and nausea will never come back. 

(Nonsensical? Yes. But does it help her feel better? Just a bit.)

How did she even get this headache? 

Wait. 

Where is she? How did she get here? She doesn’t know. 

She tries to recall any other details. 

Name. Age. Date she last remembers. 

She’s not having any difficulty remembering those details so she relaxes a bit. She’d probably have to ask someone the date to see how much time she lost, but it doesn’t seem as if her long term memory was affected. Although troubling, she‘s still thankful it was only the short term that was affected. Hopefully none of her other mental capabilities have been affected. 

After wallowing in her self pity ( _hey, it was pain, dammit_ ) for what she deems a reasonable amount of time, she slowly opens her eyes, but nothing changes. 

She can’t see. Her stomach drops. 

Is she blind now? (She takes it back—she regrets ever wishing for blindness) 

The sound of cicadas seems to swell, surrounding her. It would be comforting if only it didn’t show exactly how out of her element she is. 

She doesn’t know this place. The cicadas sound different, dissimilar to those of her childhood home. 

_Home_. She jolts. 

Her parents, friends, loved ones. Where were they? Were they safe? Did they notice her absence already? Was there already a search party looking for her? 

Before she can self-induce a panic attack, she sees a light in the distance. Her body sags almost comically, tension disappearing. 

That’s a relief, she’s not blind. 

Her vision adjusts enough for her to notice that... _it’s really dark_. 

Unnervingly dark, but she still sees the light in the distance. 

She squints, straining. Wait, it seems like it’s...getting closer? 

She jumps to her feet, tripping over her feet looking for somewhere to hide—a hopeless endeavor, as she _can barely see anything_ , but she can still try. She assumed the light to be a dwelling or something or other, but if anything that would probably be even _more_ suspicious. 

_She has no recollection of how she got here_ , she reminds herself. None at all. How does she know if the individual coming this way isn’t related to her displacement, along with her lost memories? 

Which is actually pretty concerning, now that she thinks about it. She should sit down and think on her current situation—later, when she’s not fearing for her life. She really hopes it’s not a serial killer. 

She dives under a nearby bush, praying she’s far enough that they don’t hear. After an eternity of waiting for the unknown intruder (or should she consider herself the intruder?), it finally reveals itself in the form of an old man wearing a lab coat. 

_Oh man, this doesn’t look good_. Isn’t this what happens in all the comics? An amnesiac finds them in the general vicinity of any scientist(s) and finds out they’re the unfortunate subject of an ill-advised experiment. Maybe she escaped and blacked out? It all seems to check out: this forest area seems to be deserted as well—perfect for any sordid schemes. 

And her headache wasn’t helping at all. If anything, it only seemed to worsen. God, why did all this have to happen to her? 

And then the flashlight stops at her head. 

Ah. In her panic, she’d left her head uncovered. 

“Are you alright, Miss?” She stumbles out before he evens finishes speaking, and runs—ignoring the feeling that he seems familiar. Like a long-forgotten memory. 

She’s really hoping he isn’t one of the scientists experimenting on her. She won’t be going back to that facility. They won’t be able to get any additional experiments out of her. Over her dead body! Or would they use her remains for further experimentation? _No no don’t think about it_. 

Before she gets far, she hears “Wait! Miss, you can’t go in the grass! There are wild Pokémon!”

She freezes. Pokémon? Is this a new tactic to lull her into a false sense of security? Who talks about Pokémon while trying to capture a prisoner? Unless it was listed in her file...Did she ever talk about Pokémon? 

“Miss, it’s dangerous out here, especially at night,” She jumps. His voice is much closer now. “It doesn’t look like you have any Pokéballs with you. Please, I can’t let you leave in good conscience, knowing you might be attacked with no way to defend yourself.” 

She decides that if he really wanted to hurt her, he had plenty of opportunities to do so already. 

“...I don’t have any money,” she counters, sounding somehow both deadpan and hesitant. 

“Then I’ll put you up for the night. You can leave in the morning if you’re in a rush. I won’t be able to rest easy if I know you’re out there. Please.”

Is this guy telling the truth? It almost seems too good to be true, but something in her gut tells her he’s not lying. 

_Besides, I don’t have any money, nor any belongings for that matter. I’ll probably be sleeping on the forest floor if I don’t take his offer_. 

She’s already made her decision but she has to make it believable so she mulls it over a little longer. She doesn’t want him thinking she owes him. He‘s forcing this on her. 

She waits a few more seconds before she crosses her arms against her chest, leveling a suspicious look at him. “Fine, but I’ll be leaving as soon as I can.”

“That’s fine.” He looks relieved. How unusual. Why go so far for a stranger? It’s not like she could give him anything of value. She’s flat out _broke_ right now. 

Net worth of _Z•E•R•O_. She doesn’t even have her phone on her. 

“And what’s your name?” She flinches. She really needs to stop getting lost in thought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

If he were the one to experiment on her, he wouldn’t bother asking her name since he’d already know it, right? 

“...It’s fine. I’m just a bit...on edge. Call me Mari.” 

She doesn’t want to give him her name, so she offers another‘s. 

“Nice to meet you, Mari,” He doesn’t comment on her lack of surname, but he clearly doesn’t have the same concerns when he responds, “My name is Samuel Oak, but those familiar with me or my work call me Professor Oak.” 

She doesn’t even realize she’s stopped. Stopped walking, breathing, thinking, everything. 

She distantly hears ringing in her ears. 

It’s deafening. 

“—ari? Miss Mari? Are you okay?” She recovers to look at Professor Oak— _the_ Professor Oak. No wonder he looked so familiar. He looks exactly how she remembered him. 

_Like a long-forgotten memory_ , her _foot_. She feels an overwhelming urge to take the nearest tree and slam her head against it, but it wouldn’t be good if he thought her crazy. Ah right, she should probably ease his worries. 

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” she said haltingly. _Okay, calm down_. _Gather information_. “Which town did you say you were from?”

“Oh! I’m from Pallet town. It’s a small town and we don’t get many visitors since we don’t have an inn or a Pokémon center. We make do though!” 

Her shoulders drop. (Whether it was in relief or disappointment, she doesn’t know.) Her stomach suddenly churns at the words. She’s not sure how much of that is from hunger. “I see,” she replies absently. 

It’d be surprising if that town got any non-peer related visits at all**. If she’s right, Professor Oak was probably a person of repute if Red and Blue (2 out of 2 kids in that town) were able to achieve the title of Champion. 

_A town that produces monsters_. She shivers. 

Maybe that’s the formula for becoming the Champion? Live in a town in the countryside with only two houses?

That would also explain the trust he displayed around her, opening his home to a complete stranger. No wonder. 

If you had only two houses in a town, you’d instantly know who the culprit of a crime was. What a great deterrent for it. 

Or maybe the excessive trust is due to this world. It was originally intended for children, after all, no matter how much it grew beyond everyone’s expectations, Nintendo’s especially. 

They arrive, and it’s just as she imagined. Suburbia, if it could even be considered that with so two houses. And a warehouse. No lights in the street though, as expected. It’s dark except for the windows on the buildings. He walks past the first house and opens the front door to the second one. 

_No locks?!_ My god. 

“After you, Miss.” She looks at him briefly before stepping through. Looks like he truly doesn’t mind letting her in. 

It’s...homely, surprisingly. Warm colors and cozy fabrics. 

She expected a cold home with how arrogant Blue seemed based on her memories. That maybe Professor Oak would’ve been too busy with research to raise his Grandson right. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. She herself would know all about long hours at work. 

“Please pardon the intrusion,” she says into the silence. 

“Ah, no need to worry. My grandson won’t be back until late tonight. He was supposed to be home earlier, but he’s at that age where he’s just occupied with everything Pokémon related. Takes after his old man,” he lets out a full bellied laugh, and points his thumb somewhere deeper in the house. “The shower is on your right. I’ll leave some clothes outside the door for you to change into.” 

She looks down and scrunches her nose. Wow, she’s covered in dirt. Probably from when she fell. She suspects her face doesn’t look that much better. Ugh, she can’t wait until she can get this grime off. 

Now that her attention has been drawn to it, a shower is all she can think about now. 

In her haste, she almost steps right into the shower without even glancing at the mirror, but the color of brown catches her attention. She doesn’t remember anything brown about her, and slowly turns back to her reflection. 

Brown hair. Her hair was never brown. Nor was it ever this long. In fact she remembers short black hair, chopped short in a bob. Nothing at all like this. She left her dirty clothes outside, but now she recalls that she’s never owned a black turtleneck dress in her life. She recalls unzipping white knee high boots before swapping them for the guest slippers, and now she wants to slap herself for not noticing earlier. 

Because of course. She doesn’t recall ever owning those clothes before because she’s not even herself anymore. 

And it wouldn’t have mattered what name she gave the Professor. 

She’s a different person entirely. 

Everything is wrong. Her face, her height, her eyes. 

She thought she was just transported to the Pokémon world, but it seems like she took over the body of a resident of this world. And this body looks—young. 

Like, barely legal, young. 

Did she hijack someone’s body? Is this considered kidnapping? What if the original owner of this body is someone important, like an heiress or something? Is she going to be forced to assume that identity when they find her? (Will she disappear when the original owner takes back this body one day?) 

And it’s not like she can run away—look at how badly her first attempt went. Not to mention, she has no resources. No money. No connections, if she’s really in the Pokémon world. She’s all alon—

“Are you alright in there?” Two quiet  
knocks. “Do you know how to work the shower?” 

Ah, right. Showering. 

Her suddenly hears how loud her breathing is amongst the quiet. 

She closes her eyes. 

Takes a deep breath. 

Releases it slowly out through her mouth, then calmly responds, “Yes. I’m about to start. Thank you for your concern.” 

She realizes she’s on the ground, clinging to the edge of the sink so hard her fingers are numb. When did that happen?

Anyway, she’ll think on it later. For now, she needs to get clean. She can feel the mud flaking from under her fingernails, and it draws her attention away. 

Cleaning is a brisk affair, with the shampoo and body wash smelling very masculine, almost...sensual?? 

She squints at the label and frowns.  
Midnight Musk. 

_Are 10 year old kids supposed to be using something like this? Professor Oak, what’re you doing, man? You gotta spend more time with your grandson or else he‘ll join the yakuza or something. Or would this world’s equivalent be Team Rocket now?_

She changes into the baggy t-shirt and basketball shorts left for her. 

God, she looks like a high schooler.  
_Probably_ is _a high schooler_. 

After observing herself in the reflection, she pinches the top of the shirt and thinks. 

_Can’t be the kid’s._ She takes a whiff of the shirt. _Doesn’t smell dusty, but I doubt they’d give a guest some dusty old clothes. Smells freshly washed. The Professor’s, then?_

She scrunches her nose. Feels kind of weird to wear an old man’s clothes, but whatever. She shrugs and steps out. 

She can smell something delicious emanating from what she assumes must be the kitchen, and follows her stomach’s demand to be fed. 

She hears humming and she takes a deep breath before she forces herself to step over the threshold separating the hallway and the kitchen. 

Hopefully, his generous offer involves dinner and information in addition to a room to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t read any Pokémon fanfics yet, but I’ve browsed, read a few summaries, and I haven’t found any similar to what I’m writing currently. Well, I haven’t exactly been looking very hard, but I figured this is one of those situations where “if you can’t (easily) find what you want to read, then write it” or whatever approximation of that quote I probably bastardized haha.
> 
> So I’ve been working on this on-and-off for the past 3 months or so and finally decided to post it. 
> 
> Now, I know what you’re thinking. _3 months for a single chapter?_ I know I know, but my muse is capricious and I can only scramble to capture it when I can.
> 
> Or maybe that’s my own skewed perception of how much time I assume creative processes are supposed to take. 
> 
> And that’s not even taking into account the fact that I have way too much free time right now, and much of it has been funneled into writing (or the cultivation of the creative process) haha!
> 
> Although it’s probably unfortunate for you guys because that means you’ll probably have to wait even longer for an update! 
> 
> But! Just so you guys don’t write me off (ha bad wordplay) yet as a lost cause, I’ll update that I’ve been simultaneously working on 2 other chapters while writing this chapter, along with a tentative fourth. Jury’s still out on when those’ll see the light of day though. 
> 
> **Professor Oak works with research. Therefore, I’m assuming he has to undergo some sort of peer-review, as that is what would be expected in our world.


End file.
